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Touchdown Ch. 02

By: freddie_clegg



5. Anatoly's Sticky Patch

Stockholm. The Night of Vyera's Release.

While Petra has been searching for Tracy Randolf, Jennifer McEwan's career as Vyera Anatolyevna, the non-consensual 'professional' slave is reaching its apogee. She is aboard the Andrei Tupolev, the yacht belonging to Anatoly Kustensky which has cast off its moorings in Stockholm Harbour and is preparing to set sail. It is evening and the sun is low in the sky. The Retreat To Moscow

It is time to leave. The Captain gives orders for the boat to let go its moorings. He reverses the engines to pull the yacht away from the Strandvagen Quay and out into the clear water of Stockholm Harbour. (1)

Using engines and rudder, he swings the vessel around in a lazy circle and begins to nose towards the Galaparken shore and then starboard into the deep water channel between Djugarden and Skeppsholmen islands. The harbour is busy with other yachts, ferries and pleasure craft.

The Bridge on the yacht has a forward view but all other viewpoints are covered by look-out cameras. As he glances over his controls and instruments, a monitor screen displays the view over the harbour to port, to starboard and over the stern. A second monitor shows a sequence of shots from each of the cameras that show the activity on the various decks of the boat.

The boat swings to a course of 135 degrees and begins to move south east past the Djugarden Quay. The Captain notices a movement on the deck surveillance monitor. Sveta Kustenskaya and the slave Vyera are in conversation. Actually Sveta is doing the talking and Vyera is merely listening. She does not look very happy!

The Captain takes his eyes from the scene. There's nothing remarkable about it. No doubt Vyera's performance is falling below expectations. Besides he has plenty of other things to concern him. He re-checks his course, and speed, the proximity to other vessels and their courses.

"Captain?"

Yuri, the ship's technical officer, draws his attention away from the ship's radar.

"What?"

"On the stern deck. SK and Vyera. Something is going on."

There is an unmistakable urgency in Yuri's voice. The Captain looks across at the deck monitor -- and gasps. Sveta Kustensky is helping Vyera over the ship's rail. Vyera does not seem as if she wants to go, but Sveta is obviously determined that she should. Vyera stands unsteadily, her hand in that of her Mistress ...

The Captain has only a moment to act. He shouts at one of the crewmen, also on the bridge. "Crewman! Port side! Stern deck! Incident! Yuri, you have the helm!"

In the time taken to issue the command and run across to the port window of the bridge, Sveta has let go of the slave and Vyera has executed a graceful dive away from the ship. She is airborne for a second before she is gone, beneath the waves.

The Captain watches as Sveta takes one of the emergency loud hailers and begins to call to some of the people on shore and waves, as Vyera makes her escape, through the dark waters.

The Captain and Yuri glance at one another, open mouthed. "I heard she had not been well," begins Yuri until a glance from the Captain stills his voice ...

Anatoly has arrived beside his wife on the deck and is watching in horror the receding figure of his slave Vyera as she swims towards the shore. He's running through a whole series of options in his mind. Launch a zodiac to get her back, turn the Tupolev to run her down, follow Vyera into the water himself. None of them are remotely practical. All he can do is to let the boat continue as though nothing has happened. (2)

The crewman sent by the captain arrives at the companionway and Anatoly stops him with a shake of the head.

Anatoly wants to grab hold of Sveta and shake some sense into her but, seeing how she is staring transfixed by the sight of the girl in the water, he knows this will be of no use. Instead, with a great effort he masters his emotions and gently places an arm over her shoulder.

To the crewman, standing by the companion way to the upper deck, he says, "Go to the bridge and tell the Captain to get us into international waters as fast as he can. Tell him I do not care how much fuel he uses!"

To Sveta he says, quietly and calmly, guiding her away from the rail. "Come on in to dinner. We don't want to spoil what has been prepared. I'll serve and we can both clear away. When it comes to it, I suppose you better wash and I'll dry?" He laughs: washing up and clearing away. Not something he is used to, just as it is a long time since the two of them had to endure the chore of washing up. The incongruity breaks the tension. Sveta's mood calms. She places her hand in his and together they resume their dinner, ignoring the momentous nature of the evening's events.

The Crewman reaches the Bridge. "Did you see that?" He is, like the rest of them, completely astonished. "The Boss is there now. He says to maintain course and get into international waters as fast as we can. Oh and don't worry about diesel!"

With what seems to be conscious effort, the Captain, Yuri and the Crew resume their duties. As the Captain scans his instruments once more, he notices that the AIS beacon is 'Off'. Maritime regulations say he should switch the beacon on at once, but he stills his instinct. This might be one occasion to overlook the demands of Regulations. The Boss, he thinks, might prefer not to let the whole world know who they are and what their position is. (3)

In the Dining Room, the meal ends. As soon as Sveta has gone to their cabin, Anatoly goes to the office on the boat and sits down to take stock of the situation. His mind has just begun to engage with the problem when a there is a knock at the door. "Boss?"

It's the captain.

"Well?"

"I just thought you should know. When we left, Yuri forgot to activate the AIS beacon. It's standard procedure on a boat this size. I'm sorry. There might be repercussions from the Port Authority. So I thought you should know."

"Which means that the Tupolev would be visible to anyone who cared to look such as a Coastguard and also on radar but we would not be transmitting ID?"

"Yes, exactly."

"So who would report us?"

"Perhaps other vessels. We passed a Baltic Ferries ship coming in from Helsinki, for example. But in harbour people are busy, maybe no one noticed. "

"Ah ... well thanks for letting me know. When did you realise?"

"As soon as I did a navigational check once we were out of the archipelago. Do you still want me to take the boat to Tallinn?"

"Tallinn? Fuck Tallinn! Go straight to Peter. (4) Get us a berth at the marina so Svetlana Nikitechna and I can disembark and we will go back to Moscow by train. You know that we are one person short?"

"Yes: woman overboard."

Anatoly responds with a sigh. Woman overboard all right but perhaps fortune really does favour the brave?

At least they had not broadcast their identity and position right from the time the Andrei Tupolev slipped its moorings ...

As soon as he was once more alone, Anatoly thinks about his father, the General. What did he used to say? 'Reconnaissance before planning. Planning before attack. Attack before dawn!' It's time for Anatoly to start taking control of the situation. Reflections on Uncertainty

In Moscow, Igor Mendeleyev is rudely awoken from sleep by his bed-side telephone. He is not used to late night calls nowadays and it takes him several seconds to understand what is happening. He lifts the receiver. "Yes?"

"Igor Ivanovitch?"

"Yes?"

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch"

"Ah, oh? Who?"

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch!"

"Anatoly ... Anatoly Sergeyevitch? But?"

"Igor Ivanovitch. I have a crisis to deal with..."

By now Dr Mendeleyev has realized that he is not dreaming and has managed to gather his wits together. When was the last time Anatoly Sergeyevitch called in the middle of the night? Adrenalin begins to run through his veins in response.

"Please, Anatoly Sergeyevitch, tell me."

"Sveta Nikitechna has released Vyera."

"What? She did? Where?"

"Stockholm?"

"Stockholm! This is serious Anatoly Sergeyevitch."

Anatoly stops for a moment. Of course it's serious. He knows it and Mendeleyev must know that he knows it. He bites back the angry snap that is beckoning. "Serious is not the half of it. We were on the boat, leaving port. Vyera's husband and parents were sitting on a bench on the quay. Just a very bad coincidence. Vyera saw them and Svetlana Nikitichna saw that something was suddenly wrong with Vyera. I am not sure exactly what happened next but by the time I got out on deck, Vyera had dived overboard on the instructions of Svetlana Nikitichna who had used a loud hailer to attract the attention of Vyera's family and everyone else in the area."

At this point Dr Mendeleyev starts to believe he must still be asleep. This story has a nightmarish plausibility but is surely it is the stuff of dreams? Surely he must have misheard?

Anatoly has not finished. "The question is what will Vyera do now? Will she be loyal and keep our confidences or will she betray us? If I have to take radical action time is short. It will be sunrise in two hours."

By now Mendeleyev is sitting on the side of his bed, fully awake. He fumbles for his spectacles. Problems seem to come into sharper focus if the room is in sharper focus. He knows his advice could spell disaster for others, disaster for Anatoly and possibly disaster for himself.

"I ... I ... cannot be certain. Seeing her people she knew from her past would be a major trauma. It would upset her conditioning even if she was still in our custody but now she is in such an alien environment ... er ... Anatoly Sergeyevitch I think in the short term Vyera will remain loyal to the system that has trained her. The long term is another question. She will come under pressure to revert. The pressure of being once more in her old environment and the pressure from her husband and family to tell them what has happened to her ... and then there will be the British Authorities. It is imperative that you get her back!"

"I think I know that, thank you, Igor Ivanovitch"

"Quite so, quite so".

"Your role now is to help us plan our campaign."

"You said Sveta Nikitechna provoked Vyera to escape? But what about her collar?"

"The collar had malfunctioned and had been removed earlier in the day."

"Ah! With no collar, Vyera was free to leave. Now I understand Oh dear, oh dear. What bad luck!" A memory stirs in Dr Mendeleyev's brain, something reported to him by Julia Romanova, an account from Neena. "Actually, Anatoly Sergeyevitch I think we may have a little time in hand."

"Why?"

"Neena Alexandrovna must have a picture of a radiograph showing her spinal repair and just before your vacation, Neena caught Vyera looking at it. She could have punished Vyera for impertinence but instead, Neena explained to Vyera what it was."

"So?"

"Well: Neena pointed out to Vyera that she, Vyera, was not the only one who had been forced to accept a radical change in her personal circumstances and it seemed that this chance happening had shifted Vyera's perspectives away from what she had lost and on to what she now had. It gave her a responsibility to behave in a more adult way and not always to see herself as a victim. It was exactly what we had been working towards of course but in the event, it came about as a quite unexpected stroke of fortune."

"Ah - so we might have some time in which to plan and execute some remedial action then?"

"Yes, Anatoly Sergeyevitch. We might."

Anatoly is not much comforted but it's no worse than he expected. A Bigger Fish

Anatoly's next call is difficult. He is calling to speak to 'old colleagues', friends in the FSB, friends in places where some of Anatoly's activities are known and, while not approved of, sanctioned for reasons that are not always clear. (5)

The line buzzes and an alert eager voice answers. "Duty Officer."

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch Kustensky to speak with Mikhail Barisovitch Antonov"

There is a short pause before the reply. "He is not in the building at present. Is this urgent?"

"I am afraid so."

"Is this a secure line?"

"Confirmed."

"Acknowledged. We will call back. I have your number."

"Confirmed."

"Thank you."

Anatoly knows he will not be kept waiting long. However, he still has enough time to contact Yevgeny, who tends to be nocturnal in his habits.

"Yevgeny Petrovitch?"

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch!"

"Are you monitoring Vyera's parents landline and mobile phones?"

"Of course. I advised Svetlana Nikitechna that they were in Stockholm and she asked me to make sure I maintained surveillance."

"Has there been any traffic?"

"Actually yes. Two calls made and one returned. All the calls are in English and I have not managed to have a translation carried out.

"Yevgeny Petrovitch: just get it done and get back to me at once, do you hear?"

"Certainly Anatoly Sergeyevitch. Is there ...?"

"A problem? Yes there is, so I do not care how you get the text translated but you just go and do it. Neena Alexandrovna speaks good English. Get hold of her wherever she is and get her to do the translation."

Anatoly has more to say but he is interrupted by the secure telephone ringing. He closes his call to Yevgeny and answers ..."Anatoly Sergeyevitch?"

"Tolya! How nice to speak with you. How can I help?"

Anatoly notices that Mikhail has used the diminutive of his name. It is something Sveta or some other intimate acquaintance might do but in this case, Mikhail is being faintly rude and patronising, He is setting up the pitch for their encounter. He is letting Anatoly know who is boss.

"Mikhail Barisovitch there is a situation."

"Really?" Mikhail's response is wary. Anatoly would only be calling if this was a major problem.

"One of my special employees, an English girl, escaped into the arms of her family this evening."

Mikhail understands exactly what the euphemism 'special employee' means. This can only be a 'situation' if Anatoly is constrained in some way from dealing with it. "Where did this happen?"

"Stockholm."

"Ah." There could be worse locations, Mikhail feels, but it's hard to think of one right now.

"She was released by Svetlana Nikitechna."

There a short sucking noise as Mikhail draws in breath through his teeth. He is trying to un-plait this conundrum which comes from a direction that has previously been safe and benign. Perhaps the problem is rooted in the personal rather than the professional? "Svetlana Nikitechna! How is she? And Alana? And little Dimitry?"

"She has not been well. Alana's pregnancy brought back all sorts of unpleasant memories. About ..." Anatoly isn't sure where this is going.

"About Popova."

"Yes. Popova. For the first time Sveta was able to tell me herself, but of course events took their toll. She was not being completely rational." (6)

"I understand. And on impulse she has discharged one of your special employees?"

"Exactly."

"And this is the Special Employee you recruited from England ...what ... it must be two years ago now? You asked for access to one of the ground surveillance satellites to monitor he abduction and for electronic surveillance on her and her family in the months leading up to the abduction (Anatoly notices that Mikhail Borisovitch is not mincing his words) and afterwards ... so what you propose?"

Mikhail knows that the best approach is always to allow those who present him with problems to suggest their own solution, first of all.

As intended, Mikhail's itemisation of all the help given to Anatoly to recruit Vyera in the first place considerably increases his discomfort and embarrassment.

"Amongst the options is to bring events to a final conclusion but that would involve four people."

There is another sound of air sucked through teeth. Mikhail needs little time to consider this. "No," he says bluntly, "quite simply, no. Anatoly Sergeyevitch, you are valuable to us -- to the country but your actions have to take account of the general situation. We are attempting to improve relations with our British friends and of course, our American 'Partners' as I believe is the correct phrase nowadays. This is not the time for anything that looks like, how shall I put it? -- gangland killings. Another Litvenenko-Lugovoi affair would be, well, unfortunate. There is too much at stake at present. Negotiations with the Americans and the EU for visa-free travel for Russian citizens might be disturbed. This would be just the sort of event to inflame the western media against us and frighten off the western politicians. It would make Dmitry Anatolyevitch's task so much more difficult. I am sure you would not want that, Anatoly? Hmmm?" (7)

"Of course not. No."

"Also, I believe you have 'employed' Manfred Randolf's daughter?"

"Yes but I was asked if she might be ..."

"Anatoly, it would be a shame if your judgement came into question. If we began to feel that you were not sound? A man can be asked to do all sorts of things but he has always to do what is right, do you not agree?"

"Of course, but I was ..."

"... and I have always felt that your 'special employment opportunities' were a bit of a one way street? However much the employee or anyone else might wish to reverse the tide of events, events could not be reversed. Dyes, when cast, stay cast. Concrete, when set, stays set. This is exactly the problem you have 'phoned me about tonight, is it not?"

"Yes, Mikhail Barisovitch. That is exactly correct."

"So: you will have to get her back and come to some arrangements with her husband and parents. An intriguing problem for you to solve, Anatoly Sergeyevitch. I will be most interested in how you go about it. You will keep us informed, of course?"

"Yes. Absolutely Mikhail Barisovitch. You have my assurance."

"Well done Anatoly Sergeyevitch. I knew we could rely on you. Well: I will leave matters in your hands. Good night, Anatoly Sergeyevitch!" (8)

International Burglary

Anatoly cannot rest until he has done something practical to resolve the Vyera Crisis. He knows if he was Vyera's husband that he would get her home as soon as possible and home in this case means the United Kingdom, two time zones and fifteen hundred miles from Moscow.

He calls Yevgeny once more: "Yevgeny Petrovitch? When Igor Vaserionovitch visited Vyera's home in England on the night of her acquisition, he wiped the memory of her computer to leave no trace of the surveillance programme we had installed? Am I right?"

"Precisely so, Anatoly Sergeyevitch."

"So at present there is no equipment active inside Vyera's old home?"

"You are correct, Anatoly Serveyevitch."

"Yevgeny Petrovitch, find Igor Vaserionovitch wherever he is. If he is in bed, get him up. If he is in bed with a friend, tell him to say good-bye. I want him back in the UK. I want him inside Vyera's old home installing equipment. I have informed Big Brother who seems to be prepared to maintain surveillance of the telephone and internet traffic in the normal way, so tell Igor Vaserionovitch he is allowed to ask Big Brother for technical advice. I want to know everything which goes on there, every telephone call which is made there and everything that gets written onto the computers. Tell him start immediately!

References:

1. The Stockholm Ports Authority were kind enough to advise us about mooring large private yachts and shipping movements in Stockholm Harbour

2. A Zodiac is a small tender type boat with a rigid hull and an inflatable float

3. AIS Beacons for shipping

4. Tallin and Peter. Tallin is the capital of Estonia, a port city on the eastern shore of the Baltic and 'Peter' is the colloquial name Russians use for St Petersburg


Touchdown Ch. 02



5. The Russian Security Services

6. The story of Sveta and Popova can be found in Tales From a Far Country, in the chapter 'The Ambitions of Popova'

7a. Dmitry Anatolyevitch is, in Russia, the conventional and polite way to refer to Dmitry Anatolyevitch Medvedev who, at the time of this incident is President of the Russian Federation. His Prime Minister is one Vladimir Vladimirovitch Putin.

7b. The Litvenenko-Lugovoi affarie. Andrei Litvenenko was a Russian security official who had become critical of the Russian government and moved to Britain. After a meeting with some old colleagues including Andrei Lugovoi, he fell gravely ill and died of radiation poisoning. The Metropolitan Police were able to follow a trail of radiation from the restaurant where the 'friends' had met back to the seat occupied by Mr Lugovoi in the British Airways aircraft which had brought him to London. Polonium-210 is an exotic radionuclide not readily available to ordinary people. Mr Lugovoi has not, in the words of the Metropolitan Police, "been available to help us with our enquires."

7c. Visa-Free Travel negotiations

8. When this story was being written, one of our Reviewers expressed concern about the level of telecommunications and internet surveillance we are suggesting in this and other passages and we were on the point of re-writing this particular theme but then came the Edward Snowden revelations and now it seems all too plausible ...

6. Secure Perimeter

Stockholm. The Night of Jennifer's Return

Whilst Anatoly struggles to recover from the consequences of his wife's actions, Jenny is free and reunited with her husband Joe and her parents, Andrew and Inga. This long-hoped for moment has arrived so unexpectedly and none of them has been fully able to come to grips with what has just happened ...

The four of them, Joe, Jenny, Andrew and Inga, take a taxi ride from Strandvagen Quay to the Summer House. It's only forty minutes but they pass mostly in silence, Andrew riding in the front, Jenny wedged between Joe and her mother in the back.

Andrew is awash with emotions. He is full of joy at Jennifer's unexpected return, something he had steeled himself to accept would never happen and he is proud of her brave escape. To jump from a yacht and swim for shore under the gaze of her abductors - that took nerve.

His pride gives way to anger; anger at what was done to his daughter; anger at what that did to Joe to him and to his wife. Finally Andrew is angry at the idea that, her usefulness at an end, she was thrown overboard, like unwanted rubbish.

Anger is followed by determination; a cool determination to see her safe, to see her delivered home without further incident, to see her kept safe from those who might be tempted to do her harm once more.

He listens with half an ear to Jenny intermittent ramblings. She's talking about her return being some sort of magical gift. She's pleading with Joe not to look at the magic too closely.

He can imagine how Jenny must be feeling. He understands her reaction to her situation. He's seen troops after combat; been with them through it. They're relieved that it's over, still loaded with adrenalin, grateful that they've survived, guilty that they've survived when others have not. All that his squad ever wanted to do was to get back to safety, down a beer or two and sit with their relief and their gratitude and perhaps, their guilt.

He knows, too, that things can't be left as they are for too long any more than he could abandon his soldiers to their own devices. He's already mapping out in his mind what has to happen next. They need to make sure Jenny is safe from whoever took her. They need to get back to England. They need to tell the police what's happened.

He looks up at the taxi's rear view mirror. He can see his daughter curled up against her husband and suddenly he knows that he has to do something. Whoever took her, whoever let her go, might try to take her back. He's suddenly aware that far from this being a release for them all if could be a great source of danger and if Andrew is sure of one thing, he is determined to protect his daughter, his wife, Joe, and himself come to that.

He knows someone has to take charge of events. This is what he has been trained to do. This is his forte. Taking decisive action in difficult and unexpected circumstances.

Once inside the house, Jenny is sent off to the shower by Inga and as Joe tries to collect his wits, Andrew steps outside into the garden. He switches on his mobile and dials ...

"British Embassy Stockholm, Duty Officer."

"Colonel Andrew Palmer speaking. I need help and advice, urgently"

"Yes Sir; How can I assist you?"

"My daughter was abducted in London (well: was she? Andrew does not know exactly, but he wants action and action in the middle of the night is not produced by beating about the bush). She escaped her captors in Stockholm this evening. She will need a passport to get home. She is at our summer house in Stockholm right now."

"Oh ... er I see... er ..." This is clearly not something the duty officer comes across very often. "Shouldn't you call the police?"

"There are a lot of people I should call and I have to start somewhere. We need to get her home and in the circumstances, you are a good start."

"Erm, the Embassy is closed for the moment -- until the morning"

"I am sure it is. We will need emergency travel documents. Jennifer has no documents whatsoever at the moment. What papers would you like us to provide? My wife will try to get them whilst my daughter and I go to the Police"

The duty officer tries to recover control of the conversation. He's feeling steam-rollered. "Colonel Palmer. When this sort of thing happens, Colonel Palmer, (1) it's usually tourists who have lost their passports to pickpockets or dropped them in the harbour. There is not much you can provide but come to the Embassy and we will make arrangements. You will need paperwork from the police to confirm the circumstances. This usually is a copy of any statement that has been given about a passport theft, but in this case .... Was your daughter's disappearance reported to the local UK Police?"

"It was. There was a Scotland Yard investigation."

"Oh, I see. I'm sure that the Swedish Police will want to contact their opposite numbers in London. I'm very pleased to hear your good news. I hope your daughter recovers from her ordeal. I'll brief the team here. They will be pleased to pick things up with you later in the day, Colonel Palmer."

The conversation ends. The Duty Officer notes the call in his log. It's certainly an event which will stand out amongst the routine for quite some time! Someone else can pick it up tomorrow.

Andrew's next call is to the police. He wonders for a moment if it should be best left to a native speaker of Swedish like his wife Inga but on the other hand, he does not wish to provoke any sort of confrontation with Jenny. It's better if he does things himself. He remembers the advice from the veteran TV reporter and globe trotter, Alan Whicker, 'if you are abroad, speak English; then the other fellow has to understand you. If you try to speak his language, you have to understand him!' (2) Andrew speaks good Swedish but he takes the advice and calls.

The police station answers. "Hej: Stockholm Polisen Kan jag hjelper ni?" (3)

"Colonel Andrew Palmer speaking. May I speak English?"

"Of course" The voice is accented but the delivery is confident. The signs are that they will be able to communicate accurately.

"My daughter was abducted in London two years ago and this evening she escaped from her captors in Stockholm." There's an audible intake of breath at the other end of the phone line. "We found her on Djugarden Quay. I think her captors made their escape in a large sea-going motor yacht. We came straight back to our house in Stockholm for safety. I have assumed her captors will not know our address. I have to report this incident."

The gasp of surprise from the switch-board operator or receptionist or desk-sergeant or whoever he is speaking to tells him that someone else in Stockholm is not accustomed to dealing with abduction escapees. Andrew smiles a tight, determined smile. He is happy to have secured their full attention!

"First I must have details. Your daughter is ..."

"Jennifer Karin Palmer."

"And her age is ...?"

"27 years old."

"Ah, so she is an adult."

"When did you find her?"

"At about 9.15 this evening, that's 21:15 hours"

"And where?"

"We were on Djugarden Quay and she swam to us from the harbour."

"And she is English?"

"Not quite: she has dual British-Swedish nationality."

"And your address ..."

The brief interrogation establishes that Jennifer disappeared in London, that there was a police investigation and eventually her disappearance was reported to Interpol in the event that the investigation led abroad.

"Colonel Palmer, you are military?"

"Army, retired."

"So have you a diplomatic connection to the British Embassy?"

"No: my wife and I - and co-incidentally my daughter's husband - were on holiday here. We have a house."

"Ah, so you are not with friends or renting a cottage?"

"No."

"Could you come to see us in Kungsholmen, immediately?" (4)

Andrew pauses. "I do not think so. Jennifer is quite upset and disorientated at the moment. I don't think it would be wise but I would be grateful if your people could come here. My wife and I and Jennifer's husband could give you more details from our point of view and we could bring Jennifer to see you in the morning. Also, even though I have no reason to believe that her abductors will know where we are, it would be reassuring to have some protection here."

"I understand. I think it is very unlikely that you are in any danger from your daughter's abductors, however I can understand your concern. We will send a car to you, to verify details."

Andrew closes the call and returns inside. Jennifer and Joe are together. There is tension in the air.

Inga says: "I have made coffee. It's in the sitting room. Perhaps we all need something stronger?"

"Too bloody right we do. Oh, I have contacted the Police and the Embassy. The police are sending people over."

"Ah. I think I need to disturb the children."

Andrew understands at once what she means. The murmur of voices that he can't quite overhear has a hard edge to it ...

At 11:45 pm a police car arrives with a male and female officer from the Stockholm County Police. There is a knock at the door. Andrew opens it. The uniforms of the officers are reassuring. Signs that something is being done. Signs that Joe and the Palmers are not dealing with the situation all alone. Signs that Jennifer now has the protection of a well organised and efficient State Organisation.

"Hej."

"Hej."

"Herr och Fru Palmer?"

"Ja vi är det "

"Ville du ringa till polisen om din dotter?"

"Ja vi gjorde. Kommer du. Kommer du. Och det är Josef. Han är Jennifer's man. Han är Herr McEwan." (5)

"Joseph speaks some Swedish," interjects Inga, "but he is not fluent so perhaps we can use English?" Inga makes her request in English so we all are sure of what is being said.

"Of course", replies Maria Lindahl, the more senior of the two. Joseph is struck by the contrast between her natural grace and attractiveness and the seriousness and aggressiveness of her equipment belt and the Sig Sauer pistol bulging in its holster at her hip. She is followed in by a smaller thick set male officer. He says: "I will go check outside the cottage." Andrew notices his holster is unclipped. He is prepared for trouble. Some minutes later, he is back and joins them in the family room. Marie looks at him and he at her. "All clear," he says.

"We need to speak with Jennifer McEwan. She is here?"

"Yes: in the bedroom but she is asleep, just exhausted." replies Joe.

"But I must confirm that she is here", replies Lindahl. "I must see her."

It occurs to Joe that 'see her' and 'conduct a detailed interview' are not the same.

He says; "Look, Jenny is exhausted. By all means come into the bedroom to verify that there is someone actually there but can we do any interviews in the morning? She seems pretty confused and on edge right now -- as well as very tired?"

Lindahl wrestles with indecision for a moment. If there is evidence, the sooner it is acted upon the better the change of arresting any criminal elements, if there should actually be any. On the other hand, if the girl Jennifer really has just escaped from abductors and is sodden with fatigue and asleep, anything she says might not be reliable. There is no acute danger as far as they can tell. The girl's escape took place three hours ago ... she settles for a visual identification of the sleeping girl. "That will be OK for now," she says.

"Here" says Joe, opening the bedroom door.

Lindahl sees a dark skinned, tattooed, muscular, bare headed girl half covered by a sheet. Her appearance is extraordinary, even if her story wasn't extraordinary enough. Lindahl leaves her sleeping and heads back to the Family Room.

"So, give me a brief account of what happened."

Brief, Joe thinks. How can you give a brief account of a nineteen month absence? He tries, "Jennifer disappeared in London on Tuesday 10th November 2009 at about two o'clock in the afternoon..."

"You are very precise?"

"It's not something you forget, your wife going missing." Joe's response is terse.

"No, I can understand. And then?"

"We contacted the police as soon as we realised she was gone."

"As soon as?"

"After I said good-bye to Jennifer I travelled to Seoul in South Korea with business colleagues and it was several days before I realised that something was wrong. I was on the other side of the world you see, and I couldn't contact her"

"But what about her parents?" The police officer glances at Inga and Andrew.

"We do not live nearby", offers Andrew.

"I see. So there was a police investigation in the UK?"

"Yes: I cannot remember the name of the officer in charge of the investigation in London but the Officer responsible in the town where we live was called Inspector Ackroyd. He was the policeman I saw most often."

"Do you have his number?"

"Yes: here." Joe brings up 'contacts' on his phone and offers it to the policewoman.

"We have had no contact with Jennifer at all: no sightings, telephone calls, emails - nothing until this evening."

"Tell me what happened this evening."

"We had been out to dinner at the Blau Porten restaurant on Djugarden. (6) We walked down the quay. We were sitting on a bench ..."

"Watching the world go by," adds Andrew.

"We heard someone calling us on a loud hailer."

"Calling you?"

"That's right. There was woman waving at us from a large yacht which was sailing by, She was pointing to someone in the water. I thought the boat might have just missed running down whoever it was and so we waited for the person to swim to shore."

"Ah, so you know the people on the boat?"

"Absolutely not! None of us know anyone with a boat like that."

"But they know you? Someone called to you from the boat, so they must know you ..."

"Well, I suppose so but ..."

Joe falters in his account. Inga takes up the thread. "You see none of us knows anyone who owns a yacht." I work at university," replies Inga "and University employees do not earn enough money to buy big yachts."

"I am -- was - a career soldier", adds Andrew, "No one in the British Army earns that sort of money either and I just do not know anyone who does."

"Mr McEwan?"

"I am an engineer. Some of our clients may well be able to live at that level but I do not personally know any who do."

"So the woman on the boat knows you but you do not know her?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I see. What did she say?"

Well, what did she say? The voice was so unexpected, distorted by the loud hailer, reflecting off the water, mixed with the other harbour sounds. Did the voice actually call their names?

"I ... I think I heard my name replies Joe after several moments but ... but I really can't be sure."

"Can you describe the boat?"

"Well, it was large ... white or maybe cream."

"Was it all one colour or was the hull different to the rest of it?"

"Actually we were looking into the sunset," points out Andrew. "Everything was dark -- in silhouette. The boat had a stern flag but our attention was all on the person in the water. When I looked back to the boat there was another boat in the way so I can't be sure about the flag."

Lindahl makes a decision. She will have to speak to Fru McEwan immediately.

She straightens up to face the Palmers and the woman's husband.

"I am sorry, she says but I must now speak to Fru McEwan. If there are international implications to this incident, the investigation will be taken over by the National Investigation Bureau (7) and I will have to contact their Officer on Duty as soon as I can establish all the facts. Fru Palmer, please come with me as a chaperone." With that, this very determined self-assured police woman lead the way to Jennifer's bedroom to rouse her and make further enquires. Jenny's Awakening

Neena is shaking me by my shoulder. I must have over slept. I open my eyes immediately. The room lights are on. I spring out of bed and kneel. My head bowed.

"Prostetye mnye pazhalsta, Gaspazha" (8)

Of course this will not spare me the punishment I deserve. I know that I shall have to pay for my lack of self-discipline.

There is a hand on my shoulder, It's a sign I must look at Neena and receive her judgement on my laziness. I can't understand how I could have been so careless as to sleep in! For goodness sake, I go to bed when I am told. There is just time to wash and clean my teeth and then the lights in my cell fade down and I am left alone in the darkness, Sleep - and my dreams -- are all I have left to enjoy all on my own.

I open my eyes and stare for a moment as Neena's feet. What is she wearing? I can see a pair of 'sensible' work boots and thick dark blue trousers.

I look up, to meet her eyes, - and see a uniform I do not recognize. There is the face of a woman I have never seen before looking down at me. She has a gun in a holster on her belt. She steps back.

"Ar det Fru Mak-you-an?" she says in Swedish.

"Nyet", I reply, "Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna" (8b)

The woman looks at me quizzically. Just behind her, over her shoulder I see -- I see my mother's face! I must be dreaming! Yet I can't be dreaming because I can feel the hard floor beneath my knees and I feel cold in the room. What is she doing at the Dacha? Sleep evaporates from my mind. Mummy speaks to me.

"Jennifer," she says. "This is Maria. She wants to ask you questions."

Mummy is not speaking Russian, but although the language is strange, it is strangely familiar. Like a long lost friend, I can understand it and even reply.

Maria holds out her hand. I take it tentatively and tentatively, I stand up.

The woman -- Maria - motions me to sit back down on the bed. That seems like an instruction. I know how to deal with instructions, so I sit.

Maria says, "Tell me who you are?"

"Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna Kuznetsova'" (8c)

"What?"

I glance at Mummy , who looks as if she is going to cry. I think hard. The woman Maria asked me who I was. Surely ... I try another name. "Jag heter Jennifer Karin Palmer," I say, speaking like the woman Maria does. (9)

She looks like ... like a policewoman. Is that what she is? The thought crosses my mind that I have been rescued. But how can you be rescued from where you live and from people who love you? Neena loves me. Gaspazha Svetlana Nikitechna loves me ... so where has Mummy come from and this Policewoman?




Touchdown Ch. 02



"Do you know where you are?" she says.

I slowly shake my head. I cannot be at Dacha Kustensky after all. Then it dawns! I am at the Summer House, on Drevikken! How on earth have I got here?

I say, "Is this the Summer House? At Drevikken?"

"What do you think?" asks Maria slowly, watching how I respond.

"Yes, that is where I think I am -- it's just -- I cannot think how I got here!"

"Where should you be?"

"At the Dacha," I reply.

"Where is that, the Dacha?" asks Maria.

Well : what a question. Where is the Dacha? Near Moscow, but I know that is not the answer she wants. I am about to say more when the thought comes to me that I have not been given permission to speak about the Dacha and about what I do there and about the Family there. If I have not been given permission to speak, well there is nothing I can say.

"I am sorry, I cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

"I have not been given permission."

"Do you need permission?"

"Of course! I am only a ..." I stop. I am telling them about what I do. I have not been given permission to speak to people outside the family about what I do. "I am afraid I cannot tell you."

"I see," says Maria, but the look in her face tells a different story. She begins again: "Tell me once more who you are."

I try a slightly different name, which I find somewhere in memory, like finding clothes you have not worn for a long time. Familiar and unfamiliar, both at once. "Jennifer Karin McEwan," I say.

"Where do you live?"

I am really getting into the way of this now. I know the answer! "In England of course. In Warwick."

"Do you live alone?"

"No! I live with my husband, Joseph." I glance at Mummy. She looks so much happier mow -- relieved. Funny -- this must be another level of service. Learning how to please my parents and the man I used to live with, before I became slave to Gaspadeen and Gaspazha.

Without warning. I am engulfed with tiredness. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I yawn widely and say, "I am sorry. Can we talk again in the morning?"

Maria leans forwards and rubs my shoulder. She looks puzzled but her words are kind. "Of course," she says. "Sleep now little one!" Analysis

Officers Lindahl and Carlsson are sitting in the police car reviewing the statements they have collected. The time is now 01:30. Their orders are to keep watch on the Palmers cottage and to bring Jennifer and Joseph to Kungsholmen in the morning for the definitive interviews.

"Well, what did you think of all that?" asks Carlsson. "Voices in the harbour, large unidentifiable yachts, a woman who disappears in London swims ashore in Stockholm. How long do you think it would take, to swim from London to Stockholm? Less than nineteen months?"

Lindahl chuckles at Carlsson's summary of events. It's an astonishing story, no mistake about that. It invites scepticism but Lindahl has heard stranger tales. Fantasists would have concocted an even more unlikely story. The girl would have to appear from a flying saucer perhaps, or she would have dived from the King's very own yacht. Actually the King had been implicated in some racy and rather unsavoury events lately, so perhaps that isn't as unlikely as it seems? (10)

"Well," Lindahl says after some several seconds reflection: "well, there are things we can actually check. Kungsholmen can try to contact the British police to see if Jennifer McEwan really is a missing person and we can speak with the Harbour Control people. They should know about the movements of sea going boats and yachts yesterday ..." Body Art Interlude

Joe and I are walking back from swimming in the lake. The water was cold but in the morning air, I feel warm now. I am naked again. It is reassuring. I prefer nakedness. It means I have nothing to hide from anyone. I have not seen Joe naked in ever-so-long. There have been naked men - Andrei for example - but then I was at work. I was expected to perform on them. One way or another, to give pleasure. Sucking Andrei. Fucking Andrei. Pleasuring the others I was given to. Actually, now I come to think of it, there were not many. More girls than boys. Perhaps I am not quite ready for that level of service yet? Have I been sent back to Joe for some kind of higher level training? But in that case, he would have to be working for Gaspadeen and Gaspazha ...

It's too painful to think about this. I set it to one side and look at Joe. We walk slowly back along the jetty, towards the summer house. He is half a step in front of me and I see ... he is tattooed! All over his back ... well ... but Joseph was not marked anywhere and this man has a large dramatic tattoo all over his back and his cock! It has been ringed. Right through the meatus!

Perhaps this man is not Joseph at all? Then he turns to me. The familiar half smile and the way he raises his right eyebrow ... surely it must be him?

He says nothing but holds my hand. First one, then both.

"Are you really Joe?"

"What?"

"Izveneetye pazhalsta no vwee Eosef?" (11)

"I am sorry Jenny, what was that? You will have to speak English. You know my Swedish is not as good as it should be."

He slowly bows his head forward and kisses my wet scalp. Tender. Gentle.

"You are pierced and tattooed."

"Yes."

"But Joseph McEwan does not have any body art. I do not think he approves."

"I know. Perhaps he didn't but he does now. He was an idiot. So he tried to find out about the girl he had lost by doing some of the things she had done."

"Oh ... did you?"

"I went to see Ros Buchanan" (12)

"Who?'

"Ros Buchanan. She works with Jonathan. He tattooed you, Jenny. Don't you remember?"

There is anxiety and incomprehension in the man's voice. Yes: I remember Ros Buchanan. She is very pretty in a very up-front spikey sort of way. Suddenly I feel a sting of jealousy. She - Ros - has seen Joe naked. She has seen him with his kit off. Marked his skin. Handled his cock. My cock! But wait a moment - I do not have possessions any more. I am a slave. So why shouldn't she work on this man? After all, this man here, he is not mine, is he? But I do like his cock ring. It could do to be a bit thicker. Better aesthetics ... and his tattoo ... is wonderful.

"So what does it say?"

"What?"

"Your tattoo?"

"Oh, er ... well ... it was something Ros Buchanan put together to talk about ... I mean to signify ... I mean to draw out the story of me trying to find you."

"Trying to find me?"

"Yes."

"So how does it say that?"

"Well, there is a cross to say how much I love you and to say that I will go anywhere and do anything to find you."

"Oh ... what about the funny animals."

"They are called zoomorphs ... they represent the things I will need: wisdom, courage and faithfulness."

"Oh ..." and I snuggle close to this man, who will do any brave thing to find me. But he has not found me, I have been sent to him. By my new Owners. And the person who lives inside this body: Vyera or perhaps it is Jennifer now. Will he be able to find her?

As we climb back to the Summer House, I am in front of this heroic man and I glance back at him and my gaze falls down to his prick proudly sporting its ring. The cold of the water has shrivelled his flesh and the ring is even more prominent now. Brazen. I find my mouth beginning to water. It seems the slut has come with me. I begin to think about the ring. A heavier gauge. A bigger diameter. Larger. A nice thick leather lead clipped onto it. A lead in my hands. The man being led away by me, for me to play with. My mouth is watering much more and I have to swallow. A man to play with. All mine! Kungsholmen

Stockholm Police Headquarters occupies a large slab sided glass and concrete building in Kungsholmen. It looks more like an office block than a main police station. It fits the image of Sweden as a fresh, modern, forward- thinking country, where rules of society are understood and obeyed. The image is of somewhere that people pull together instead of going their own way; where crime is more likely to be an affliction to be remedied by therapy, rather than the evidence of some on-going battle between the forces of good and evil. The Stockholm Police however, know better than that. They are not distracted by cliches. They have their feet firmly on the ground ...

Jennifer is sitting on her own, in a small bright windowless room. She is facing a lady detective in a white polo shirt. There's a tape recorder and the detective's male colleague.

"Tell me your story", begins Anna Thomassen, the detective.

Jennifer draws breath ... and stops.

Tell her story? How can she? She is a slave and a slave must be loyal to her Owners. What can she say and remain loyal to them?

"Err ... well ... I am Jennifer McEwan."

"Mmmmm. Do you like Sweden?"

Jennifer smiles broadly. "Yes: very much. My mother is Swedish. I have been here lots and lots of times. We have relatives."

"Have you been staying with relatives recently?"

"Er ... no."

"When did you arrive?"

"Last we ..."

"Last week?"

"Yes."

"From UK?"

"Er ... no"

'Mmmm? You know that nowadays, the Immigration and Border people have to keep a check on foreigners coming into the country."

"Yes," agrees Jennifer, weakly. She looks down.

The detective notices the downward look. There is something significant this girl does not want to say about how she came to Sweden. The detective has read the Interpol notification about the disappearance of Jennifer McEwan. Now it seems, here she is. Reluctant to say how she came to be in Sweden in the first place. Like a little abscess, the crime has pushed up a swelling which the detective has found. She lifts her scalpel and draws the blade across the centre, to release the poison of wrong doing, but once lanced, will the abscess drain?

"You were going to tell me how you came to be here?"

Jennifer, half smiles, exhales, looks down and her eyes begin to water. How can she possible answer the question and stay loyal?

"I am sorry, I can't remember."

"Ah, well that is a shame because it is against the law for people to enter Sweden illegally. If you cannot tell me, I will have to arrest you. You will have to stay in custody here until you can remember."

Custody. Prison. Of course Jenny has been I prison for so many months now. What was it Neena explained to her? Explained between cane strokes given to reward her for trying to escape?

'Slaves remain in custody'

Did it matter if her custodians were the Swedish Authorities or her Owners?

Actually, she had entered the country properly. She had come as Vyera Anatol'yevna Kuznetsova, because that was who she is, but could she admit that to the police woman and stay loyal to her owners?

The detective is speaking again: "Perhaps I should give you some time to think things over. On your own. Here?"

From somewhere deep inside Jennifer's brain, a fact presents itself to her conscious mind. A fact which has quietly slumbered for so long now. It awakes and shambles into the light.

"Er .. do you need permission to come to Sweden if you are Swedish?"

"Pardon?"

"If you are a citizen of Sweden? Can you ever enter the country illegally? If this country is your home ..."

"If you are Swedish, Sweden is your home and you are always welcome."

"I am Swedish as well as English. I took out dual citizenship when I was twenty one!"

"Ah ..."

"So can I go back home now?"

"To Stockholm?"

"Yes."

"Karin" (the detective chooses Jennifer's second name, her Swedish name) "we are very anxious to know if a crime has been committed. It is the duty of citizens of Sweden to help the police to deal with criminals."

"I ... er ... I entered Sweden correctly and I know of no crime committed in Sweden."

"I see. So where is your Swedish passport?"

"Er ... I do not know."

"Lost?"

"Yes."

"Then you must apply for a new one."

"Yes."

"Karin: think carefully. There is a girl called Jennifer Karin McEwan who is also a British Citizen. She disappeared in London on Tuesday 10th November 2009. Her husband and parents were very worried about her. If you know what happened, you must tell me."

"Can I just go home now?"

"I will have to speak with you again. I also want you to speak to a colleague of mine and our doctor must see you."

"Yes. I understand."

"Then you may go but do not leave Stockholm without letting me know. Here is my card. If you do, I will have you found and arrested. Do you understand?"

J

ennifer rises from her seat. She is blushing and perspiring and her voice is unsteady. She has not told the truth as she knows it. The Detective Anna Thomassen knows it. Jennifer knows the detective knows it - but she is free to leave the building, after she has seen their doctor. She has been rescued by her Swedish citizenship. Her Owners are still safe. For now.

References:

1. The Duty Officer has been trained. Using someone's name is a good way to interrupt their flow and get your own chance to speak.

2. Alan Whicker. Legendary British TV reporter and man-of-the-world. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alan_Whicker‎

3. "Stockholm Police. Can I help you?"

4. Kungsholmen. The HQ of the Stockholm County Police. The County Police would handle 'routine' police work but if a crime fell into particular categories, such as people trafficking or involve crimes which cross international borders, the Swedish National Investigation Bureau will take over the case.

www.polisen.se

5. The conversation in Swedish:

'Hello'

'Hello'.

'Mr and Mrs Palmer?'

'Yes. That's us

'Did you ring the Police about your daughter?'

'Yes, we did. Come in. Come in - and this is Joseph. He is Jennifer's husband. He is Mr McEwan'

6. The Blau Porten Restaurant in Djugarden:

7. The Swedish National Investigation Bureau:

8. Jenny's conversation in Russian:

'Porstetye mnye pazhalsta, Gaspazha'. Forgive me please. Mistress

'Nyet, Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna'. No, my name is Vyera Anatolyevna

'Menye zavoot Vyera Anatolyevna Kuznetsova'. I am Vyera Anatolyevna Kuznetsova

9. Jenny's conversation is Swedish:

'I am called Jenifer Karin McEwan'.

10. The King of Sweden has been keeping some bad company, wonderfully captured in a newspaper cartoon. The King is drawn as a playing card, the Joker. In his hands are other cards, face downwards. The caption reads, 'Time for cards on the table?' Basically: girls, gambling and unsavoury Balkan types.

11. 'Izveneetye pazhalsta no vwee Eosef? "Excuse me please, but are you Joseph?"

12. Ros Buchanan first appears in our earlier book Such Sweet Sorrow, Chapter 6, Ink Inc. & Chapter 15, Marked Man. 7. Some Unexpected Callers.

London and Stockholm. The day following Jennifer's Return Ett Telephone Samtal

At New Scotland Yard in London, the Headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, Chief Inspector Grantby, who has been part of the investigation into Jenny's disappearance from the start, picks up the phone, reacting to its insistent ring. He's only just got back to his desk. He'd hoped for a few minutes to get his life in order before the outside world demanded his attention once again. "Grantby?"

"Chief Inspector, There was a call for you this morning from the police in Stockholm."

"Stockholm?"

"An Inspector Thomassen rang to say someone called Jennifer McEwan has been found. She was a disappearance case in 2009 in London. They want you to call back."

Grantby furrows his brow. He remembers something of the case; mainly that they didn't get very far with it. It will be good if he can finally draw a line under it. "Can you get me the file?"

"It should be on your desk."

"Thanks, Alice."

Grantby thinks back as he rummages through the files on his desk. A young woman vanished in London. She came from ... where was it? ... somewhere in the Midlands ... Warwick! Suddenly the memory freshens up in his mind. That was the case where he thought someone in the security services was playing games. All the leads had been so very neatly closed off. There had been a report that the CIA were somehow involved with the girl. How did that work? Er ... was she the one who had been doing some psychological research at some peculiar adult playground in Essex -- or was it Suffolk? Maybe it was Suffolk ... The CIA had turned up and carted her off for interrogation.

By now Grantby is rather keen to re-read the details. He finds the file on his desk and thumbs through to find the summary of events:

Name: Jennifer Karin McEwan

Date of disappearance: 11 November 2009

Last Confirmed Sighting: Fitzroy Square W1

Approximate time: 2:30PM

Last possible sighting: New Cavendish Street W1

Risk classification: High:

- her absence was out of character

- she did not complete her intensions on the day

- no objective explanation for her disappearance

Other Information: - possible involvement of 'security services'

- her superior at work was a personal friend of a former KGB

agent.

When he read the last line, Grantby chuckles. Sometimes you just could not make this stuff up!

Grantby picks up his 'phone and speaks to his secretary once more: "Can you try to get me Bjorn Borg or whoever it was?"

"It was ... Inspector Thomassen and she is a woman, not a man."

"Of course, well it is Sweden after all."

"I will call you back."

"Thanks, Alice."

A moment or two later and Alice is back with Grantby's call to Stockholm. An insistent accented voice asks: "Can I speak with Inspector Grantby?"

"This is Chief Inspector Grantby."

"Of course. This is Anna Thomassen. I am with the Swedish National Investigation Bureau. Stockholm County Police were alerted last night by a ... Mr Andrew Pal-mer who told them that his daughter who had disappeared in London in November 2009 had reappeared in Stockholm. She was interviewed by the County Police. When they realized there was a trans-national dimension to the incident, responsibility was transferred to us.

I have spoken with Fru Mak-You-An today and now I am calling you."

"Thank you for your interest Inspector Thomassen." There's something about the woman's clipped delivery that irritates Grantby. That or the fact that she's a woman. Plus he's puzzled by this Fru-Mak-U character. Grantby replies without properly engaging his brain: "Since she is a British subject, don't you think it would have been helpful if you had called earlier?"

Thomassen is quite capable of looking after herself. "I am contacting you only an hour after I have interviewed the girl myself, Chief Inspector," she says deliberately placing a stress on the 'Chief' while pointing out Grantby's mistake. "Actually, she is a Swedish national who has dual citizenship. She may have disappeared in London but she has now reappeared in Stockholm and cannot or will not explain how she came to be here although as a Swedish citizen, she has every right be in Sweden and I have every right to take charge of any investigation here."

Grantby can feel the irritation in Thomassen's voice at his barb. Maybe a less abrasive approach on his side would work better, he thinks. "Inspector Thomassen ... er, It seems to be that we both have something to offer each other in this case ..."

"Yes, I agree. I was hoping you would see it that way. My assessment is that Fru Mak-you-an.." Thomassen's rather mangled version of 'McEwan' allows Grantby a smile to compensate for ground given in the confrontation. "She is suffering from some form of psychological trauma from her experiences over the past months. I have arranged for a psychiatrist to see her and she will be examined by one of our physicians, to look for injuries and so on. I will send you a copy of their reports in translation. She, for example, is very reluctant to say much about what has happened to her. According to her family, she seems to toggle between two different personalities. One personality appears first when she wakes after sleeping and when she is caught off-guard. The other personality, when she is more like the person she used to be, appears after she has had a moment to collect her thoughts. The family live in the UK at the moment and would like to return there, so it is important for us to pass the case on carefully. I cannot really detain her -- though I have told her that she could be arrested and imprisoned for failing to cooperate in the investigation of a crime and I will do that if necessary..."




Touchdown Ch. 03-06



3. Blowout Prevention 

January - April 2012. Berlin 

Texas Dreams. Texas Nightmares. 

As the Randolf Corporation jet crosses the Atlantic, Manfred Randolf sleeps fitfully. He is tormented by recurrent dreams ... 

He is standing a few yards from an oil derrick. High on the tower, he can see the Randolf Company logo, bright in the afternoon sun. As the drilling head turns, he can see fluid escaping from the joint beneath the blow-out preventer valve. The flow starts as a trickle and then builds and builds. In seconds the fluid is being forced out of the joint at enormous pressure, escaping in a thin sheet at a rate of hundreds of gallons per minute. Manfred realizes that the valve is not operating. For some reason, there is no secondary valve as back-up. He tries to get to it. He has to close it manually; has to stop the drilling head turning; has to alter the inflow of drilling mud and kill the well. 

The men on the rig are getting on with their tasks. They are oblivious to the danger as the pressure in the underground reservoir forces oil to the surface. 

Manfred tries to run across the gantry to reach the valve but the harder he tries to run, the slower he goes. He has almost reached the assembly when the pipe fractures. There is the sound of a dozen express trains howling and thundering past! The whole rig is consumed in a violent explosion of oil, drilling mud, gas and water. 

Manfred knows he must do all he can to get clear, to find fresh air to breath, the reach some point of safety ... 

He wakes. The roaring and whistling sound in his ears is not escaping oil and steam: it is the sound or the air streaming past the fuselage as his jet cruises north east, seven miles high above the cold grey Atlantic. (1) 

Randolf is asleep once more, but now his unconscious mind takes him back to Houston. He is in the Enron building, walking through the offices. The building is full of police who are walking between the desks, carefully writing down what each person is doing. Suddenly, he is sitting at a desk himself. He cannot decide whether he has become an employee? Surely he is a visitor? Across the desk sits Jeffrey Skilling, the CEO. 

"Manfred! Glad you could drop by. You know, you should have sold out to us when you could. We could have paid in Enron stock. We have been America's Most Innovative Company for three years running, do you know that? Those SPE's you set up? Pah! You are too small to get away with that sort of manoeuvre. Houston PD are here and the D of J people: they are going to see through you, like you were glass." 

Randolf tries to tell Skilling not to speak so loud! One of the policemen will hear him. For heaven's sake! There are hundreds of them. A police captain is standing behind Skilling. He says, "Shall we go over to Randolf Corp now, Mr Skilling?" (2) 

Randolf decides to run. If he can make it up to the top floor, there is sure to be a helicopter pad ... 

Randolf is at home. He walks through his lounge. He is alone. He takes a slug of Jack Daniels, straight from the bottle. The whiskey burns a hot trail into his stomach. As he turns he sees Tracy talking to her Mother. 

Shanice? What is she doing at the ranch? She has not set foot there since the divorce. Why is Tracy here in Texas and not in Germany? Tracy is talking to Shanice urgently and insistently. She is telling Shanice to dispose of her Randolf stock as fast as she can but without depressing the market price. 

"You see Mom, Daddy wants me to pull things round but it's all gone way too far. Look! Here's the cops coming, right now. Daddy hides all his most secret things in the barn. Let's go get 'em." 

Randolf looks out of the window. Tracy and Shanice are already disappearing through the door into the darkness of the inside of the barn. Parked, as a barrier between them are three black and white police cars, their lights flashing. A clean-cut young man is climbing out of the first of them. Behind him is the shambling, untidy figure of Columbo. 

"No need to worry, Mr Randolf," drawls Columbo, "just a few routine questions." (3) 

Dinner at The Mid-Town Grill 

Manfred Randolf rides the elevator car down from the Executive Floor to the lobby of the Marriot, Potsdammer Platz. Even though he was in Germany, Berlin even, he still felt he was in the United States, somehow. This was a place where you knew that right at the top of the Company, there was a real guy called Marriot, making sure things were always just as they should be. 

As he leaves the elevator, Randolf glances right and left. As if to confirm his musings, his eye falls on a large, idealistic and optimistic portrait hanging in the Lobby. J Willard Marriot sits gazing out, a benign smile on his face and architectural blue prints in his hands, Behind him stands his son, John W Marriot 3rd also smiling, also reassuring the guests that in this company, their family is securely in charge. Manfred envies them their munificence, to some extent. Their security, definitely! Hotels might not be 'manly', like drilling for oil, but maybe it was more difficult to get yourself into the sort of trouble he was in? (4) 

Petra, his head of corporate security and Chuck, the Corporation Chief Accountant have been waiting in the Lobby Bar to join him. The three of them take the short walk towards the dining room, the Mid Town Grill. (5) 

Manfred is dressed like a Texan. Blue check shirt; pale blue Wranglers; light tan cowboy boots and a belt to match. He is showing he is here to kick ass if he has to. 

Chuck is definitely, visibly, an accountant. Whilst Manfred is slim and wiry, Chuck is more than a few pounds over his fighting weight. He is dressed in a sombre dark business suit, white shirt and dark blue striped tie. He looks like a Republican Conservative and votes like one, but that's not always how he acts in his business life. 

Petra is the anomaly. She is tall and well-proportioned with an athlete's body; she has long blond hair, pleated and put into a bun on the back of her head. Manfred notices she is wearing a pair of those patent leather, lace-up, British boots (Doc Martens or something?). The boots have red laces which contrast with the shiny black of the leather. She has the blackest of black tights and a dark red cotton pleated skirt. Above the skirt there is a red blouse beneath a black biker jacket. Petra looks very desirable and sexy. Manfred notices his mouth has begun to water. She also looks dangerous. 

As the trio sweep into the dining room, the Maitre D', an immaculately dressed black girl who speaks English with a German accent smiles broadly and personally shows them to their table. They turn left, walk past the open 'kitchen' area and right to the end or the room. They are almost in a little annex. 

"I have put you here so you could have some privacy. I hope that will be satisfactory?" she says. A colleague is standing at her elbow. "Maxine will be looking after you this evening." 

Maxine, small, blond, pale skinned and with blue Germanic eyes smiles and says "Guten Abend Damen und Herren". She nods and gives almost a little bow. Formal, yet friendly. 

"Like I said," says Petra," the steaks are good here ..." 

The cabal are into their meal now and Randolf takes charge of the situation. He is demolishing a T bone with French fries, asparagus with butter and rocket. 

"So Petra, Chuck and I are gonna have to put you more in the picture about the Corporation. Most of this stuff is going to be deeply confidential. If you don't want to know it, say 'stop' but we think it will give you some important context. Chuck? ..." 

Chuck clears his throat and swallows a mouthful of salmon steak. He has become worried recently about his profile - how he looks in the bedroom mirror and reducing his red meat quotient is for him, a first step on the road to better nutrition. 

"Well Petra, it's like this. Frankly, the Corporation has been in poor shape over the past few years - yes I know the share price has done well but there's the rub. We are overvalued. Seriously over-valued. We need real money to refinance and to get working capital to rebuild our financial foundations ..." 

"What Chuck means", interjects Randolf, "is that we need real dough to start deep drilling in the Texas fields. There's more oil down there but the technology to get it is expensive. And it's not just about oil. There is technology to frack natural gas out of shale rock and we need to be part of that. Did you know the US is now self-sufficient in natural gas, thanks to fracking? We need to be part of that." (6) 

"So why not just go to the Bank and borrow?" asks Petra, "If you are thought to be a good risk and a valuable company, that should be no problem?" 

"You are a minx, Petra! You are just needling me. Look since the sub-prime mortgage fiasco, since Lehman Brothers went belly up, the banks are being much more careful and frankly, I don't want them crawling over the company accounts ..." (7) 

"and the reason is", continues Chuck, "that the accounts have not told the complete picture about the corporate finances for quite a while." 

Randolf chews vigorously on another mouthful of steak, gazing at Petra through a half closed eye, like an alligator sizing up its prey. 

"So what we did", continues Chuck 

"Look, Petra it's like this", says Randolf, following through. "Gradually, productivity in the Texas field started to fall. We're talking mid-eighties here. I had offers for the Corporation from the people at Marathon and Philips. (8) I wanted to stay independent. Then along comes The Nineties. The Soviet Union collapses. The Russian Empire used to be the world's number one oil exporter, then in the Soviet period, it was off limits but that did not really matter because in the West we had the Mid East, North Africa, Nigeria, the North Sea, Venezuela and of course, Texas. Anyway, I could smell money. Could we cut some deal with the former-soviets to get hold of their oil and ship it to the US or could we sell them some of our expertise to bring their industry up to date? Hell, I thought we'd be dealing with a bunch of engineers who knew fuck all about business or a collection of ex-pinko communist apparatchiks who did not know which way up the balance sheet went." 

"And I am going to guess it did not turn out quite like that?" 

"No siree girl, it did not. We found ourselves tied in with a bunch of bandit capitalists of the blackest hue." 

"... so we took a leaf out of the Enron Book"' adds Chuck, "we set up a number of Special Purpose Vehicles. These separate an investment from the main balance sheet. If it makes money, you can transfuse money into the main Corporation accounts. If it loses, it is off the books but the main thing is that the share price is not affected by what the SPV's are doing." (9) 

"I wanted them just to bring investment capital into the Corporation", explains Randolf. 

"... and avoid tax" adds Chuck with an accountant's precision. 

"... and avoid tax, yes, that's true and then when we had enough we could kiss 'Boris' good bye", adds Randolf 

"How did 'Boris' take this?" asks Petra 

"Well, 'Boris' did some checking of his own ... I tell you, girl, these guys are good. We should be employing them. If we could trust them ... Anyway, he found out that we were over-valued and he guessed that we had been using out East Europe operations to rebuild our finances", replies Randolf. 

"So they started to send us invoices for what purported to be services they had supplied to us"' says Chuck. 

"Invoices! Blackmail demands, that's all they were. 'Boris' thought he had us over a barrel but I could see through his little scheme. They wanted us as a gateway into the US market. They wanted a market presence without having to come clean about it. The next step: getting me to sell them a controlling share in the corporation 

... you see Petra, they knew that we had not been correctly declaring profits and The Treasury does not like that", the pedantic Chuck explains. 

"... and I have no intention of doing jail time like that dumbass Jeffery Skilling", adds Randolf. (10) 

"... so Manfred sent Tracy to tie to tie up the East European operation." 

"To cut the Russians loose?" 

"Yep, that's about it. A few more months and we would not have needed them any more"' Randolf replies. 

"And now they have Tracy, she is security to guarantee your good behaviour?" says Petra, summarizing the situation. 

"Yes Petra, that's it. Tracy also knows where a whole lot more bodies are buried." 

"Do the Reds know everything?" 

"Well, Petra I think we now need some precision in the conversation because there is not just one single collection of Reds. We spread our risk and I don't know how much they all talk to each other. The plan is to pay what is owed, so that is the slate wiped clean but mainly to find out which little gang of hoodlums is responsible for Tracy's disappearance and to try and get her back before they figure out what she is worth. This is your job, Petra. Get hold of who ever took her and screw them till they tell you where she is. We gotta be tough here. I just feel it in my gut." 

Petra begins: "So Manfred, you are pretty definite that people you upset were on this side of the pond?" 

Manfred nods again and Petra continues, "I don't think it's anything they'll have done by themselves, that is to say done personally. They'll have commissioned someone in West Europe or someone who is experienced at working here. 

There's one operation I'd normally have down for something like this. Man called Clegg, no real scruples, goes where there's a good buck. He operates out of the UK and works largely with clients in the area you might call Iran-istan. He has got connections in the States by the way. You know a Steve Glennis?" (11) 

Manfred nods and adds, "well, 'know him' is a bit too much of a description, 'heard of him' is nearer the mark." 

Petra continues: "Clegg doesn't care much who commissions him to do what, although he's been tidying up his business the last couple of years. An abduction like this is well within his capability. His organisation is a good example of the sort of people we will be dealing with but, I don't think he will be responsible on this occasion. After all, why would Russians want to work with the British on a 'project' in Germany?" 

"Anyone else?" 

"Plenty, I'm afraid. There is one West Europe operation run by someone who calls herself 'The Contessa'. There are a number of criminal gangs from the old Yugoslavia and others from the new Baltic Republics - Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Then of course, there are the Russians - well, 'former Soviets is a better description because they don't all come from what we would now call 'Russia'. Some nasty operators. Some skilful ones. A few that are both. The Former Soviets are the people who still have a lot of links in Berlin and I think that's where we have got to start, following on from what you have just told me" 

"Understood ..." 

"I spent some time checking out the area where her apartment was and I've tried following up with the Berlin police. They don't have any real clues. There's no much that even points to a snatch and if anyone actually knows anything in Berlin they aren't saying." 

"So that's where we are at? For goodness sake Petra. Part of me does not want the police and heaven forbid, the FBI people at the Embassy getting too involved with this. On the other hand, I was hoping for something more concrete." 

"Let's have a bit of patience here, Manfred. Tracy has only been gone 72 hours and yes, I hear what you say about the police. Oh, by the way, who is this?" 

Petra slides a photograph taken from a security camera over the table. It shows Tracy in a café, talking to a man. Young. Attractive. Smart. Black. 

"Who in hell's name is this, Petra?" 

"Tracy often called at a café on her way home. I 'borrowed' the security camera records. This is what I found." 

"Shouldn't the police have that?" 

"I guess they should, Manfred. The question is, at what point do you want them to have it? Are you going to rely on normal channels to get Tracy back or are we going to work on this ourselves - at least for some time?" 

"Ah, oh, yeah. I see what you mean." 

"Here is another. This is from the surveillance camera I had installed in Tracy's apartment. It covers the front door. See? Here she is coming in and here is the guy again. This is something the police will also have and at the moment they will be going through Tracy's address book to match names with faces with visitors, so we have us a start." 

"Manfred, I am going to suggest that you get out your cheque book and start playing bills. See if you can get your merchandise back through more conventional channels. Meanwhile, I will track down this son of a bitch and find out who hired him. Then you will know who exactly you need to do serious business with. Sound OK?" 

"Sounds OK to me Petra. Get on the bastard's trail." 

Petra notices that as he says this, Manfred is holding his steak knife like a dagger, the blade being driven into the table. 

"Careful, Manfred," she says, "The Grill will be putting 'maintenance charges' on your account!" 

Petra's Persuasive Talents. 

Berlin is a large city in a large country. Petra reflected that is she had been responsible for an abduction, she would get as far from the scene of the crime as possible. The man she was after, he was young. Young could also imply inexperienced. If he was merely the 'bait' he might think he was now in the clear, now the principle gang had taken their quarry and quit the scene. Berlin was the best place to start their search. 

In addition to photographs, Petra also had the copy of Tracy's diary, left in her apartment after her disappearance (another hint at inexperience) and of course, there was a copy of her diary at the Randolf Corporation offices. 

Petra noticed that an unfamiliar name kept popping up. It began a few weeks ago. The name was 'Hans Peter'. 

The Police were also looking for 'Hans Peter' in all probability, but they had rules and procedure to follow. They had to act inside the law to uphold the law. 

Petra is not in the police. She has deep pockets. She can pay handsomely for information. Her munificence buys her a large number of people who are pleased to be on the lookout for 'Hans Peter.' 

Petra found Hans Peter at a gym. She had spread the name and the description out amongst her contacts and 'Hans Peter' came up on a list of male escorts. This was the clincher. He really was merely a bait, left to lure Tracy to her doom whilst others, no doubt more practiced, took over at that point. Petra wondered Hans Peter had been well paid? Would it be compensation for his next little adventure? 

Hans Peter knew an attractive woman when he saw one - goodness knows, he had gritted his teeth through plenty of unsatisfactory encounters, but at least he was being paid. 

Petra stood out with her creamy skin and tight white sports-bra top. The way her perfectly defined tummy disappeared effortlessly into her black tight lycra shorts, outlining her tight butt so well. 

He first spotted Petra on the pull-up machine. (12) She had beautifully defined biceps and the way her trapezius and latisimus dorsi contracted as she went through a set of ten repetitions: very nice indeed. Hans Peter also knew if he would find a firm, warm, slippery, vagina when he looked at a woman and he saw one here, definitely. 

Petra watches him watching her. It gives her the opening she needs. She smiles. "Hi, I'm Petra!" 

"Hi, I'm Hans Peter." 

"Hans Peter? That's a nice name. You from around here?" 




Touchdown Ch. 03-06



"Berlin?" 

"Yeah." 

"Yes: I work at the University. You?" 

"Me? Oh, tourist - sort of. I'm at a medical congress and then I'm going to see a bit of Germany. I'm just a visitor, that's why you have not seen me before." 

"Well: if you are not here for long, let me show you some of the town. Places a tourist might not ordinarily see - if your evening is free, no seminars on anatomy!" 

Petra laughs. "Well, I could use a seminar on 'The Tight Ass' but I'm free tonight so what do you suggest?" 

"I suggest dinner - first. Then ... well, who knows?" 

Petra giggles at Han's Peter's gentle innuendo. "Yeah, who knows?" 

It is 9:30pm Hans Peter and Petra have enjoyed a very pleasant evening together. It's not too late - after all, Hans Peter has a 'class' to teach tomorrow at his 'university'. Petra says she has booked to go down to Bavaria. Maybe they both know that each of them is lying but neither of them care. From Hans Peter's perspective, it's going to be a one night stand and Hans Peter is going to make the best of it. He is keen on the idea of sending Petra down to Bavaria with a very wet cunt! 

They approach the door of the apartment Petra has rented or so she says, over the period of the 'congress'. 

"C'mon in, big boy," she says as she scrabbles to put her key into the lock, her mouth exploring his, "They say you guys are BIG. I wanna see for myself! I wanna see your cock!" 

As Petra turns the key, the apartment door flies open and two very large, very solid men emerge. Hans Peter is fit but he is no match for the two of them and he is not ready for Petra to turn and drive her first hard into his stomach. Hans Peter crumples to the floor and heaving and gasping, he id dragged into the flat and the door is firmly closed. 

In the surprise, terror and confusion of the next few moments Hans Peter finds it hard to collect his wits. Who on earth is this girl? What does she want? Who are the men with her? He does not owe any money? His clients have all come to him, through the Agency. He has not bedded any wives of dangerous husbands because the Agency does try to check ... 

He is dragged into the flat and thrown onto a bed. Hans Peter notices that the bed is very hard. Incongruously, it occurs to him that the bed feels too hard for really a good long fuck. 

One of the men kneels over him, whilst the other hauls his arm out and The Girl straps a wrist cuff on him and secures it to the bed frame. They do the same with the other arm and then turn their attention to his feet. The Girl stands over him: 

"Strip Him", she says 

But they can't! He still has his clothes on! This must be a game? 

Then, one of the men produces a pair of heavy paramedic shears and beginning at his ankle, slices his way right up to Hans Peter's neck and then down his arm. First one side, then the other. Finally, his shoes are pulled off and his socks and then he is naked, shivering with fear and dismay. He sees the shreds of his clothes tossed into a black plastic bin bag which is tied up and thrown to the side of the room. 

"You won't be wearing them again, Big Boy"' says The Girl 

By now, Hans Peter is frightened enough to start to urinate on the bed, but one of the men deftly places his cock in a bottle which despite Hans Peter's efforts to keep control, collects his urine. 

"We don't ", says The Girl, "want you to make a mess. We do want some information." 

"Information? I don't know anything?" 

"Don't be stupid, dumbass! I have not asked you anything yet. You know plenty. You will be surprised how much you can remember. We could, for example, band your balls, like the Vet does to cattle and see if that helps your memory. Might do it anyway. Oh, sorry. I forgot the introductions. This is Joachim and this is Dieter." 

The girl motions to her two large, strong, tough, frighteningly handsome accomplices. 

"Dieter: hold his head." 

One of the men walks to the head of the bed which has been pulled away from the wall and stretches his arms through the bars. He grabs a generous handful of Hans Peter's hair. The Girl climbs on the bed and straddles his chest. She takes some sort of instrument - Hans Peter cannot see exactly what and places it in his nostrils. He begins to weep in terror. The Girl squeezes the handles and he feels a sharp pain in his septum, radiating into his teeth. 

"Stop crying!" She says by way of explanation. It's only a dermal punch." 

She withdraws the instrument and holds a cloth firmly in his nose for a few moments. 

"There: you have stopped bleeding already!" 

She picks up a thick segmented metal ring and feeds it through the hole she has punched. She smears epoxy cement onto the free ends and then inserts a ball into the gap, opening the ring (it's quite difficult, thanks to its thickness) with some large ring opening pliers. 

One of the men hands her what looks like a hypodermic. 

The Girl takes firm hold of his lower lip, looks inside as if to judge a position and firmly passes the hypodermic right through! She inserts a barbell into the wound, one end, flat to rest against his teeth. The other end, round to rest on the outside of his lip. 

Panic is rising uncontrolled in Hans Peter's mind. For goodness sake, he will not be able to work for the Agency is he looks like this! He just will not be socially acceptable to the sort of clients they have. 

The Girl now has hold of his chin. He cannot avoid her eyes. 

She says: "I have an unusual hobby. Body piercing and needle play! I think you need ... decorating ... and I am going to keep this up until I get some answers. Now: Septum, Lip, what next?" 

"Ears?" asks Dieter. 

"Ears!" echoes Petra. With Joachim still holding Hans Peter fast by 

his hair, Petra fingers his lobes. 

"Hmmm. Nice and flat. He could take ... two each side?" 

Dieter like his lips, "I like it when they get their lobes stretched." 

"Huh? Oh, you mean with a flesh tunnel and a ring running through? Yeah, that's nice. The way the ring rolls as they walk. OK so we will need one piercing here which he can stretch later" - she looks up into Hans Peter's bleary tear filled eyes - "you will you know. Just you see. We are giving you an image make-over. Just how much of a make-over depends on you." 

A wave of relief breaks over Hans Peter. At least there was going to be a 'later'. 

Before he has had time to recover, Petra has passes another hypodermic through his ear lobe and passes a ball closure ring through. She inserts another further up his ear and then inserts two more in his other ear, taking careful account of symmetry. 

"Right, team!" Says Petra, lets rest up for a few moments so our subject here can recover himself. Hans Peter - look for goodness sake, I am not going to spend all night calling you that. From now on you are HP, OK? Now, HP. Look at this photograph. See this girl? Why did you get involved with her?" 

"Who?" 

"Her - dummy!" 

"Oh, well there have been so many I'm not sure I can really remember." 

"Can't remember?" 

"No ..." 

"Oh ... well ... I think you should think that over. Just for a few minutes." 

To Hans Peters surprise, Petra bends over and starts to lick his nipples. She gently licks, sucks, blows. Hans Peter's nipples betray him. They begin to stand up, taught. Petra takes a marker pen and makes places one small black dot on each side of each nipple. Each mark is directly opposite the other, perfectly opposite. 

From Hans Peters point of view, Petra takes a pair of nipple clamps and applies one to each nipple. From Petra's point of view, she takes a pair of Pennington's forceps and grasps each nipple such that the skin markings are firmly held. 

Suddenly, Hans Peter realizes what Petra is about to do. 

"No, for goodness sake, give me a minute. Let me tell you about the girl." 

"Sure, you are going to tell me. This is just to help." With that, she holds one of the forceps, pulling the captive nipple away from its owner and swiftly runs the Introducer right through it. Left! Then Right! 

Hans Peter feels a short, sharp, stab of pain: white, tearing, all the more intense because of the circumstances. 

"Please. Please. Please," he gasps. 

"Not until you have your jewellery in! Let's do the right side first." 

Petra withdraws the hypodermic and threads a ring through the lumen of the plastic catheter which now runs through his right nipple. Once through, Petra slides the catheter tube out and Hans Peter's nipple has been ringed, save for the captive ball which Petra squeezes in and seals with more of the epoxy resin. 

Whilst Hans Peter gasps from shock and dismay, Petra calmly rings his left nipple: a matched pair. 

"What do you think, Boys?" 

Dieter and Joachim come around to admire their sweating captive. 

"He is looking good, Ma'am. Increasingly tasty", says Joachim and Dieter licks his lips in agreement. 

"You know something? I agree", adds Petra. "In fact I think I have done quite a good job here. Hey, look at the time. I'm gonna have to get on with his cock soon!" 

"No, please. No. Just let me talk. Please let me talk." 

"OK. So talk." 

"The girl in the photograph. My Agency told me she had made an enquiry and asked for me." 

"Really?" 

"Yes and then another woman called. She told me it was really her and not the Agency. She said I was to make friends with the girl and on a certain night take her back to her flat and give her rohypnol. Then when she went to sleep, I was to call her." 

"Ah, and did you?" 

"Yes." 

"That was very naughty, HP. Did they pay well?" 

"Yes, much more than normal and I did not have to give the Agency a cut. In fact they insisted I did not." 

"Really? And what happened?" 

"I did what they asked." 

"And?" 

"When the girl was asleep, I phoned the number and they came for her. They had me disconnect the security camera at the front door and then they came and put her in a shipping container. It was parked on a lorry at the front door." 

"Wow!" Says Petra and to herself she concludes, 'there are the pro's. Slick and confident.' 

"Did they tell you where the container was going?" 

"On a train, they said. Well, they did not say to me. I just heard one of them say they had to avoid road works on the way to the rail terminal." 

"Was there a name on the container?" 

"No but it was pale blue." 

'Pale blue', muses Petra. The standard colour of Russian Railways rail freight. Petra suddenly brightens! "Well done HP. That's very helpful. Now you get a reward. Well two rewards actually." 

Petra takes Hans Peter's cock and applies the Pennington's forceps across the head. Without a moment's hesitation, she drives a new hypodermic right through, from right to left, right through the urethra. 

Hans Peter is caught by surprise as a wave of pain surges up his body! 

Before he can draw breath, Petra has placed a barbell rod into the piercing and screwed the free ball of the barbell tight home. 

"Well done HP. Now you boyfriends are going to just love that. It's an ampallang cockhead piercing. You know, if I had a cock, I'd want one of those. Now when you want to take a leak, just relax slowly. It might sting ever such a little but you will be fine. Surprise number one. Surprise number two. You like girls, right?" 

Hans Peter nods his head weakly. He is beginning to feel very sick. 

"Well, I am going to expand your horizons. Joachim and Dieter here are going to teach you how boys make love! You HP, are going to learn to suck cock and lick ass. Boys! I want HP to get intimately familiar with everything that comes out of a cock. Everything! And I want this son of a bitch to get really good at licking ass. Have you got any friends you can trust who would like to join the party?" 

"There's a couple", replies Dieter. 

"Phone 'em!" replied Petra. "Make sure HP here gets it up the ass. I want him fucked! Thoroughly, repeatedly fucked! I brought lube and condoms. They are over there in the bag. If he is a straight guy, its going to be a little bit of punishment for him being naughty with Tracy. We have the flat till Monday, so that gives you the weekend to change his orientation! Four cocks, eh? Hans Peter, you are going to have you one hell of a weekend! Comes in here a straight male and leaves here a gay male eye candy and an experienced player! 

I'm going to see if I can verify what HP has told us and I'll call you later to let you know if we are going to have to keep him safe and sound beyond Sunday - or if we just feed him to the Berlin Politzei. 

4.Tracy Back On Wall Street 

The Padmascovnye, in Russia, January to July 

As the days following her abduction become weeks and then months, Tracy Randolf is forced to struggle with the radical change in her circumstances. Instead of spending her time in an Armani business suite, she is kept naked. Instead of her carefully styled hair, he head is regularly shaven. Instead of wearing designer jewellery, her only adornment is the demeaning septum ring, which swings back and forth, tapping her upper lip as she works, always reminding her of its presence and of what it represents. Instead of always being active, she is forced to be passive. And then there is the work she does. On the floor. On her hands and knees. Scrubbing and cleaning like the black domestic servants she remembers from home, when she was a little child. Tracy is now treated like a child. She is told when to get up, when to get washed, when she may eat, what she may eat and when she must sleep. Day after day after day after day. Each day like the last and the last day like the next. 

Gradually, she finds it easier to adapt to the expectations of her captors. Merely to do as she is told. Superficially, that is just what she does. She even behaves well enough for Neena, her supervisor to imagine that she, Neena is getting the upper hand but like a sleepy snake hibernating through the winter, Tracy is merely waiting for the weather to turn in her favour. 

New Accounting Perspectives 

Neena has finished with her. An emotionally exhausted Tracy is returned to her cell to nurse her blazing bottom. She has endured many long minutes of corporal punishment at the hand of Neena who has delighted in using a thick broad leather strap across her bottom for no good reason Tracy can see, except that the Russian bitch obviously enjoys being sadistic. Tracy strongly associates this particular implement with 'that little cow Vyera' because Neena began to use the strap and has developed an increasing fondness for it after Vyera left the Dacha, so far not to return. In the aftermath, Tracy finds herself reflecting on the nature of her predicament and on Vyera. 

Just after the little cow Vyera was taken off somewhere, that Neena bitch had said she, Tracy, had been purchased? By whom for goodness sake? Tracy was familiar with the idea of staff being transferred between divisions of the company, and if the company changed ownership, the employees were 'sold' to a new owner as part of the company assets, but in her personal case, being 'purchased' just seemed so intimate, so demeaning, so humiliating. Of course, there had been quite a lot of humiliation recently, but did she have to lay down to it anymore? 

Who were these people by whom she had been purchased? 

Crap! What did that Neena bitch know about buying or selling? What did she know about The Market? About the value of Product? Neena was an employee. A Trainer. She was there to break the spirits of such as that little cow Vyera and Tracy herself.  

There was every chance that this whole 'sold' thing was merely another mind-fuck, to accelerate her down the path of becoming a passive servant, content to obey orders and do the bidding of others. 

Well maybe Vyera had crumbled but Tracy was going to endure because Tracy knew all about the game that was being played. 

Tracy reflects further. What is her real value? The value which would be reflected in any real sale or transfer deal? It was obvious. She was valuable, thanks to the financial information she carried. No one has spent even two minutes since she had arrived asking her anything about the Randolf Corporation. Nothing about its financial position, market exposure, true value of assets or commercial intentions. That was the sort of information which made money. Tracy had the answers. Tracy had cards to bring to the table. 

Why had she been taken and brought here? There were unpaid accounts. Tracy knew which and she knew the value of each one. She knew names. She guessed she was being held as collateral until her father came across with the real money he owed. Would he ransom her? He might resent the financial outlay but he would worry much more about the knowledge she carried with her. 

Neena said that she had been 'purchased'. Had she been sold to the people her father owed? Maybe, but then why were they not here, now, asking smart questions, asking financial questions? 

Had she been 'purchased' by her father, now he had settled his debts? That might be encouraging - but now she was out from his clutches, did she actually want to return to the Randolf Corporation any time soon - any time ever? 

An asset did not finally change ownership until it changed hands and so far, she had not changed hands. There was still time to put in a counter bid. It was high time she entered the negotiations on her own behalf! 

Back In The Corporate Jungle 

Tracy - or Pavea, from Neena's perspective - is on her knees in the front hall of the Dacha, looking up at Neena. Pavea has just finished cleaning the floor and is waiting for Neena's verdict on the job she has done. 

"Izhveneti pazh'alsta, Gaspazha Neena?" 

"Da, rabinya?" 

"You told me I have been sold?" 

"Da ..." 

There a curious hesitancy in Neena's voice. Tracy notices immediately! Tracy was used to negotiating and she could tell straight away that Neena was not. 

"I think you are selling me short. You have undervalued me as an asset. I have counter proposals." 

"Pardon?" 

What did the girl mean? Was this any of her business anyway? Neena is struggling to fit Pavea's remarks into the picture she had formed in her own mind of Pavea beginning to break and accept her role as 'slave'. This was the picture she has painted for Anatoly Sergeyevitch at the meeting just before he left for his vacation with Svetlana Nikitechna and Vyera. The remarks now coming from Tracy did not seem to fit at all! 

"If you buy a field in Texas, it has a value for cattle grazing and more value if there is access to water but much more value still if there is oil or gas underneath." 

"What do you mean, rabinya?" 

Neena has an uncomfortable feeling that from somewhere, Pavea has found an angle of attack. She is escaping from Pavea and with lightening speed she is becoming Tracy once again. 

"My real value for any purchaser is my skill as an accountant and my knowledge of the oil and gas business in the US and Europe and the position of the Randolf Corporation. Those assets must be reflected in any price you quote. Also, commercial knowledge is perishable. Things change. Companies move on. No-one has asked me about any of the really valuable information I bring with me." 

"Ah ..." 

This line of thought makes perfect sense to Neena. It is the sort of thing she should report to Anatoly Sergeyevitch. But if she accepts, she is, to all intents and purposes, being sent on an errand by Pavea, the slave. A disconcerting picture forms in Neena's mind of Pavea as some sort of slippery eel which having been caught is now successfully squirming out of her grasp - and eels have many very sharp teeth. 




Touchdown Ch. 03-06



"I think I was taken as collateral against unpaid accounts. I know which accounts. Their value. Who was owed. Perhaps Daddy has paid up in which case you maybe 'selling' me back to him. Maybe he has not paid up, in which case the inside information I have about the Randolf Corporation is even more valuable. I am too valuable to waste, having me spend my time cleaning floors! I'm worth money to you. I am worth even more money working for you. You don't own this operation. Go tell whoever does!" 

Neena runs an errand. 

"Neena Alexandrovna, how kind of you to come all the way to Moscow to see me!" 

"It is always a pleasure, Igor Ivanovitch and no trouble at all. Actually, I also have an appointment with Alana Sergeyevna." 

"Lunch?" 

"Yes, that too - and to see little Dmitry." 

"Quite so, quite so but I think you have other matters on your mind?" 

"Yes, Igor Ivanovitch. I have exceeded my instructions concerning the American, Tracy Randolf and think I am losing control of her." 

"Really?" 

"When she arrived, she assaulted me. My instructions were to confine her but as we did not know how long she would be with us and to make her more compliant, I interpreted my instructions as meaning that I should treat her as a newly acquired slave and begin her training." 

"Your diligence and enthusiasm have been noted, Neena Alexandrovna but let me reassure you. The American is a temporary acquisition but we do not know how long we will have to care for her. At our last business meeting, before Anatoly Sergeyevitch left for his vacation, he told us that he had been asked to return the Randolf girl but when we reflected on the practicalities you pointed out - astutely, I thought - you pointed out that there would be danger for us if she was sent back before she was compliant and we also felt that by and large, the girl might even benefit from her new experiences, which are doing her no lasting harm, so what is the reason for your disquiet?" 

"Yesterday, she began to talk about her value to us. Specifically, the value of the financial information and expertise she carries with her. We have never asked her to provide information to us. The Randolf girl knows we know who she is - after all, she has never missed the opportunity to tell us. Specifically, she reminded me that we should not sell her too cheaply." 

"Did she? Well, that is considerate! How did the question of her sale arise?" 

"After the last business meeting, I told Pavea she had been sold. I wanted to increase her anxiety, to reinforce the idea that she was merely an asset to be used and she has been reflecting on the situation." 

"And she has made some counter proposals? How American that is! How resilient and creative. I am impressed! Then she made you her messenger to deliver them?" Mendeleyev chuckles. "Wonderful!" he says and continues, "and you are now beginning to feel at a disadvantage because the girl is exactly right in what she says. She is a most valuable acquisition?" 

"Exactly and I wanted your advice on how to manage Pavea before I brought her remarks in front of Anatoly Sergeyevitch so when he returns from vacation, he can consider how we can use the Randolf girl before she is eventually released" 

"Well of course, we should always make it a rule to be careful what we say to slaves, or say in their hearing but the girl is correct in what she asserts. We must begin to think about how we can use her and yet leave her in no doubt about her present status. Go see Alana Sergeyevna and little Dmitry. Enjoy lunch and I will have some suggestions for you presently." 

The following day, Neena begins to implement her new instructions concerning Tracy as she and Andrei watch Tracy work out in the gym at the Dacha. 

"So we are starting her on the MSH?" comments Andrei (1) 

"Yes: we need the slave dark and randy. Especially randy. In fact, we want her brain ruled by her itchy smouldering drooling little pussy." 

"Steady on, Neena. The Boss and SK will not want the little bitch staining the carpets and furniture!" 

"Of course, we'll have to remember her colouring. She has red hair. That might not look too good against very dark skin. Or will it? Well: let's find out. If we keep her head smooth, a clash of colours is not something we will have to worry about, anyway. Will you be able to bulk her up?" 

"I am afraid you are going to have to reduce your ambitions, Neena. Pavea is an ectomorph.(2) 

I can make her look like a gymnast but she is never going to be a body builder. Wrong physiological make up. Not like Vyera. She is beautifully muscled. I am missing her." 

"You are missing putting your prick inside her, you mean?" 

"Well, I definitely mean that - in addition to the aesthetics!" 

"So, back to Pavea: she is going to have to become a muscular gymnast? I want - I mean we want her to see her body changing and to have her tormented by the insatiable itch between her legs." 

"Who is she going to? I thought we were only 'looking after her' for a spell?" 

"We are only looking after her but we do not know when we will be able to send her back, unfortunately. Well, I say 'unfortunately'. Fortune is what she will bring us whilst we have her and Igor Ivanovitch has recommended that we should gently remind her that life has changed. Its time her body was used." 

"For more than cleaning the Dacha? And scrubbing?" 

"Yes, for a lot more than scrubbing!" 

Music At Night 

Tracy is being led by Neena up to the servants area of the Dacha. She is blindfolded and a dog lead is clipped to her collar. To prevent any interference with proceedings, Pavea's wrists are cuffed to a thick leather belt with encircles her waist. The belt buckles closed at the front and Pavea's cuffed hands are fastened to the belt at the back. 

She is hobbled by ankle cuffs joined to each other by a leather strap. Tracy can walk but she has to take careful obedient steps as she is urged on by her Mistress. In short: she is perfectly restrained. 

Tracy realizes she is being taken to somewhere new in the Dacha. 

She has followed the journey in her mind. Along the basement corridor. Up the spiral stairs to the ground floor. On upwards past the first and second floors and now in the attic storey. She follows Neena down another corridor. She feels Neena's hand on her chest to halt her progress. She stands. A door opens. A tug from the lead attached to her collar (words form in Tracy's mind: 'for goodness sake, do they think I am some sort of fucking dog?') brings her into a room. She is allowed to stand for a moment. Preparations are being made. ('Is this where they have their administrative offices?' wonders Tracy, 'are they going to start using my brain now, my expertise? Is this the moment when I can start over and re-exert myself?') 

Tracy feels someone turn her around. There is someone at her feet. The hobble strap is un-done. Then a hand is firmly planted in her chest and she is pushed firmly backwards. That was unexpected! Tracy's head had been filling with ideas of Excel spread-sheets, her access code to the Randolf Corporation computer network, the most recent output from Bloomberg. Instead, she falls backwards onto a bed. In a moment hands grasp her beneath her shoulders and she has slid upwards across the sheet and her legs are attached to the bed frame. Her hands are released from the belt and each one hauled outwards and upwards to be, like her lower limbs, connected to some waiting attachment points. She has been spread-eagled onto someone's bed! 

She is about to open her mouth in protest when her blindfold is stripped off and she sees the face of Neena and the Mongolian domestics looking down at her. 

Neena has something in her hand. She takes advantage of Tracy's open-mouthed surprise and presses the penis gag into Tracy. The penis is broad-ish but not too long. It has been coated with just a little of something sweet. Even as Neena is strapping it behind her neck, the sweetness is making Tracy salivate and swallow. As she swallows, she notices that the penis seems to be 'open' as if there really was a sort of urethra - but you couldn't normally suck anything out of a urethra, surely - unless the guy was ejaculating, or peeing? Then Tracy catches sight of the dildo. It is attached on the other side of the penis gag. Its long, fat and covered with little round knobs. Neena pats it with her hand and Tracy immediately feels the motion transmitted to the penis gag now firmly between her teeth. 

"Now I realize you have significant financial expertise Pavea but slaves exist to be fully exploited and we have not exploited your body, sexually. That begins tonight! This is going to be another level of training and my colleagues here will be very pleased to help you - in fact they will make sure you are very thoroughly introduced to the delights of the face-dildo. You will have the opportunity to watch each of them, all four of them, fuck themselves to exhaustion on your face. You will be able to watch as they part their lips on the dido and swallow it whole! They will ride and ride until they orgasm - and then I think they might all want to go round again! Fucking and cuming produces lots of very intimate fluids along the way - well, you know that - and this dildo will help you take part. There are little channels formed along the whole of its length which are designed to let mucous from whoever is using it drain into the dildo. When you swallow your own saliva, you will suck the mucous through into your very own mouth - so you are not just going to see the fucking, you are going to taste it too. Aren't you a lucky girl? Oh - safe sex. All the Mongolians are fluid-bonded. Actually, so is Vyera and now you will join them in this wonderful intimacy!" 

Neena bends down and licks around Tracy's nipple and blows so the nipple begins to stand erect. Neena says: "so, I will go away and leave you all to have a wonderful night together and I will see you all in the morning." 

The Mongolians smile and giggle. 

Tracy rages! She makes to form some sharp piece of invective, but all she can do is swallow. She gazes up in dismay as a very wet Damdinsuryn straddles her head and begins to settle the dildo deep into her vagina. She travels down the length of the shaft carefully, clearly enjoying each bump and little knob as they squeeze into her. As she squats, she giggles and sways, just a little. 

Tracy gets the best view in the house. Of Damdinsuryn spreading her labia. Of the head of the dildo disappearing. Of Damdinsuryn's buttocks and anus slowly approaching her face and all the while a sensation of increasing pressure of the gag across her face. 

Tracy's salivary reflexes also now begin to betray her. She has to swallow and again and again and then Tracy realizes that as she swallows, she cannot help but suck! She is complicit in sucking the juices right out from the depths of her Tormentor's vagina. The first of four! 

Neena's lips are at Tracy's ear. "This is a great show! Tomorrow, you will get to clean this wonderful piece of equipment. Isn't it an inspired creation? Clean it carefully. You are going to get to know it very well from now on. Enjoy!" 

Between her legs, out of sight because Damdinsurn's anus, buttocks and vagina fill her whole field of vision, someone else is licking her clit! Tracy realises that before long, if the tongue keeps on, she will become just one more enthusiastic partner in this intimate, erotic ballet ... 

5. Anatoly's Sticky Patch 

Stockholm. The Night of Vyera's Release. 

While Petra has been searching for Tracy Randolf, Jennifer McEwan's career as Vyera Anatolyevna, the non-consensual 'professional' slave is reaching its apogee. She is aboard the Andrei Tupolev, the yacht belonging to Anatoly Kustensky which has cast off its moorings in Stockholm Harbour and is preparing to set sail. It is evening and the sun is low in the sky. 

The Retreat To Moscow 

It is time to leave. The Captain gives orders for the boat to let go its moorings. He reverses the engines to pull the yacht away from the Strandvagen Quay and out into the clear water of Stockholm Harbour. (1) 

Using engines and rudder, he swings the vessel around in a lazy circle and begins to nose towards the Galaparken shore and then starboard into the deep water channel between Djugarden and Skeppsholmen islands. The harbour is busy with other yachts, ferries and pleasure craft. 

The Bridge on the yacht has a forward view but all other viewpoints are covered by look-out cameras. As he glances over his controls and instruments, a monitor screen displays the view over the harbour to port, to starboard and over the stern. A second monitor shows a sequence of shots from each of the cameras that show the activity on the various decks of the boat. 

The boat swings to a course of 135 degrees and begins to move south east past the Djugarden Quay. The Captain notices a movement on the deck surveillance monitor. Sveta Kustenskaya and the slave Vyera are in conversation. Actually Sveta is doing the talking and Vyera is merely listening. She does not look very happy! 

The Captain takes his eyes from the scene. There's nothing remarkable about it. No doubt Vyera's performance is falling below expectations. Besides he has plenty of other things to concern him. He re-checks his course, and speed, the proximity to other vessels and their courses. 

"Captain?" 

Yuri, the ship's technical officer, draws his attention away from the ship's radar. 

"What?" 

"On the stern deck. SK and Vyera. Something is going on." 

There is an unmistakable urgency in Yuri's voice. The Captain looks across at the deck monitor - and gasps. Sveta Kustensky is helping Vyera over the ship's rail. Vyera does not seem as if she wants to go, but Sveta is obviously determined that she should. Vyera stands unsteadily, her hand in that of her Mistress ... 

The Captain has only a moment to act. He shouts at one of the crewmen, also on the bridge. "Crewman! Port side! Stern deck! Incident! Yuri, you have the helm!" 

In the time taken to issue the command and run across to the port window of the bridge, Sveta has let go of the slave and Vyera has executed a graceful dive away from the ship. She is airborne for a second before she is gone, beneath the waves. 

The Captain watches as Sveta takes one of the emergency loud hailers and begins to call to some of the people on shore and waves, as Vyera makes her escape, through the dark waters. 

The Captain and Yuri glance at one another, open mouthed. "I heard she had not been well," begins Yuri until a glance from the Captain stills his voice ... 

Anatoly has arrived beside his wife on the deck and is watching in horror the receding figure of his slave Vyera as she swims towards the shore. He's running through a whole series of options in his mind. Launch a zodiac to get her back, turn the Tupolev to run her down, follow Vyera into the water himself. None of them are remotely practical. All he can do is to let the boat continue as though nothing has happened. (2) 

The crewman sent by the captain arrives at the companionway and Anatoly stops him with a shake of the head. 

Anatoly wants to grab hold of Sveta and shake some sense into her but, seeing how she is staring transfixed by the sight of the girl in the water, he knows this will be of no use. Instead, with a great effort he masters his emotions and gently places an arm over her shoulder. 

To the crewman, standing by the companion way to the upper deck, he says, "Go to the bridge and tell the Captain to get us into international waters as fast as he can. Tell him I do not care how much fuel he uses!" 

To Sveta he says, quietly and calmly, guiding her away from the rail. "Come on in to dinner. We don't want to spoil what has been prepared. I'll serve and we can both clear away. When it comes to it, I suppose you better wash and I'll dry?" He laughs: washing up and clearing away. Not something he is used to, just as it is a long time since the two of them had to endure the chore of washing up. The incongruity breaks the tension. Sveta's mood calms. She places her hand in his and together they resume their dinner, ignoring the momentous nature of the evening's events. 

The Crewman reaches the Bridge. "Did you see that?" He is, like the rest of them, completely astonished. "The Boss is there now. He says to maintain course and get into international waters as fast as we can. Oh and don't worry about diesel!" 

With what seems to be conscious effort, the Captain, Yuri and the Crew resume their duties. As the Captain scans his instruments once more, he notices that the AIS beacon is 'Off'. Maritime regulations say he should switch the beacon on at once, but he stills his instinct. This might be one occasion to overlook the demands of Regulations. The Boss, he thinks, might prefer not to let the whole world know who they are and what their position is. (3) 

In the Dining Room, the meal ends. As soon as Sveta has gone to their cabin, Anatoly goes to the office on the boat and sits down to take stock of the situation. His mind has just begun to engage with the problem when a there is a knock at the door. "Boss?" 

It's the captain. 

"Well?" 

"I just thought you should know. When we left, Yuri forgot to activate the AIS beacon. It's standard procedure on a boat this size. I'm sorry. There might be repercussions from the Port Authority. So I thought you should know." 

"Which means that the Tupolev would be visible to anyone who cared to look such as a Coastguard and also on radar but we would not be transmitting ID?" 

"Yes, exactly." 

"So who would report us?" 

"Perhaps other vessels. We passed a Baltic Ferries ship coming in from Helsinki, for example. But in harbour people are busy, maybe no one noticed. " 

"Ah ... well thanks for letting me know. When did you realise?" 

"As soon as I did a navigational check once we were out of the archipelago. Do you still want me to take the boat to Tallinn?" 

"Tallinn? Fuck Tallinn! Go straight to Peter. (4) Get us a berth at the marina so Svetlana Nikitechna and I can disembark and we will go back to Moscow by train. You know that we are one person short?" 

"Yes: woman overboard." 

Anatoly responds with a sigh. Woman overboard all right but perhaps fortune really does favour the brave? 

At least they had not broadcast their identity and position right from the time the Andrei Tupolev slipped its moorings ... 

As soon as he was once more alone, Anatoly thinks about his father, the General. What did he used to say? 'Reconnaissance before planning. Planning before attack. Attack before dawn!' It's time for Anatoly to start taking control of the situation. 

Reflections on Uncertainty 

In Moscow, Igor Mendeleyev is rudely awoken from sleep by his bed-side telephone. He is not used to late night calls nowadays and it takes him several seconds to understand what is happening. He lifts the receiver. "Yes?" 

"Igor Ivanovitch?" 

"Yes?" 

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch" 

"Ah, oh? Who?" 

"Anatoly Sergeyevitch!" 

"Anatoly ... Anatoly Sergeyevitch? But?" 

"Igor Ivanovitch. I have a crisis to deal with..." 

By now Dr Mendeleyev has realized that he is not dreaming and has managed to gather his wits together. When was the last time Anatoly Sergeyevitch called in the middle of the night? Adrenalin begins to run through his veins in response. 

"Please, Anatoly Sergeyevitch, tell me." 

"Sveta Nikitechna has released Vyera." 

"What? She did? Where?" 

"Stockholm?" 

"Stockholm! This is serious Anatoly Sergeyevitch." 

Anatoly stops for a moment. Of course it's serious. He knows it and Mendeleyev must know that he knows it. He bites back the angry snap that is beckoning. "Serious is not the half of it. We were on the boat, leaving port. Vyera's husband and parents were sitting on a bench on the quay. Just a very bad coincidence. Vyera saw them and Svetlana Nikitichna saw that something was suddenly wrong with Vyera. I am not sure exactly what happened next but by the time I got out on deck, Vyera had dived overboard on the instructions of Svetlana Nikitichna who had used a loud hailer to attract the attention of Vyera's family and everyone else in the area."